I remember it now.
A dream of yours.
“Hey.” I call out to you over and over, coming up behind you. “I said hey.”
Memories from the past whirl about me like a revolving lantern. This dream, this time we’ve spent together, feels like a second stretched into an eternity.
I don’t know how long ago it was, but I was barely there, so it seems like it must have been well in the past. However, like a dream of wealth and fortune, even though it can feel like you’ve lived a lifetime, it can all take place in the blink of an eye.
So it could have been several seconds ago, or several millennia ago.
At any rate, here inside this nightmare, I met you.
No, I found you.
I didn’t even have an outline yet, I was just a point of view, flimsy, like an invisible person. I was unable to perceive even my own fingertips. I was like a spirit, following you from behind.
I was only able to realize my shape here in this rainbow-colored tent, which you reached after a long period of wandering. The moment you pinch your cheeks and wake up, I am forced back into this tent.
Only while you’re awake can I relax in that cute, put-together little room. I have no idea why things are this way.
I have no clue who you are, what I am, or anything about this dream.
What I can’t understand makes it hard to feel at ease. That’s why when you’re walking around the world of your dreams, I’m following close behind you, observing. I want to believe that there’s some key to satisfying the ceaseless wandering in this unending dream.
That’s why I worked so hard to find you and get involved.
“Wait up a second, hey—”
I was lucky to find you that day you strode about, your braids swaying.
Dreams are expansive, complicated and mysterious, so there weren’t many chances for me to come across you. With years of experience, I learned the peculiar sound your shoes make, and after a great deal of hardship, I found you.
I merely observed you at first, just watching the whole time. Finally, I couldn’t hold back any longer, so I gradually drew closer to you. I called out to you, reached out my hand. However, you didn’t notice me, you just kept walking as you always do.
I wasn’t satisfied with that.
I continued my relentless pursuit of you, like a small child seeking its mother.
“Hey, don’t just walk away.”
Your movements aren’t particularly fast, but you move in a way that’s hard to predict, so finding you was a challenge. Following you is tough. Unlike you, who don’t seem to tire from walking on and on, my breath frequently runs ragged.
Getting tired in a dream. Talking about breathing in and out is also weird.
Discussions of such biological functions are irrelevant to me.
Perhaps if I’m stabbed with a knife, I’ll bleed and die.
You’re walking through a thick forest. A fairytale-esque forest, like the one Hansel and Gretel get lost in. A large amount of enormous trees stand before you, and weeds grow, thick and unchecked. This is absolutely no place for a walk, and yet you strut about confidently, without fear of getting lost.
I trip over the roots of a tree, shake at the cries of birds or wild animals throughout the forest, and balk at the all-consuming darkness created by the treetops.
The throng of trees is rather like a crowd of people. Like the crowds of people strutting aimlessly in front of the train station, or inside the train, or in line at a shop...... In the middle of those crowds, you are lonely. You move forward, cutting through at a fast pace.
Within the woods, there are occasionally things like spirits. They’re pink and green, like some kind of gross, sticky treat from a foreign country. They creep through the forest, either wearing broad grins, expressions of sadness, or expressions of maddening anger.
Though they pose no harm, they lurk about the forest like wild beasts, and once you approach them, they cling to you.
They seem to cling to you with a stickiness, never letting you go.
Like gum somebody spit out on the side of the road.
It doesn’t seem very pleasant to you, as you quicken your pace even further.
If I coiled my way around you like that, I wonder if I would also become a spirit that merely followed you from behind. I can’t do anything to impact you. All I can do is watch. Worse than those apathetic trees are those clingy, unpleasant interlopers...
Memories involving other people leave scratches on the heart. By merely interacting with others, they leave depressions on our heart, transforming it. Insofar as humans are creatures that learn, even negative memories are precious learning experiences. Unpleasant memories are stored for later reflection, such as “this was a failed attempt” or “let’s try to make sure things don’t end up like this again.”
They’re put on display within your unconsciousness, without being forgotten.
No matter how terrible something is or how badly people want to forget it, the mind will not erase the memory. The heart cannot be seen with the eye nor touched by the hand. So the heart always has blemishes left on it that cannot be cleansed.
What sort of blemish am I?
“Hey, who are you? What am I? Where is this?” I ask you over and over again, thinking you know something.
I’m so anxious.
Not knowing what exactly I am instills a fear in me that makes it hard to stay sane. There’s no place for me to rest, like a little boat in a storm.
I’m amassing plenty of ideas, but I have no clue which one is correct. I’m sure what I really want is for someone to say, “Yes, yes, that’s it.”
I want it to be you, without a doubt, for you are special within this dream world. Everything else here seems to move on autopilot, and there are many strange beings that I’m hesitant to even engage with in the first place. But little by little, as you come and go throughout these worlds, you change.